SEAL Together

by Maryann Jordan

  “Eric? Right? I am right, aren’t I?”

  Preferring a subtler greeting, he nodded. “And you are?”

  “Chris. Chris Peterson.” His brow crinkled in thought, and he asked, “Aren’t you expecting me?”

  “Yes, I was expecting to meet Chris Peterson,” he said, “but not to have my name shouted across the airport.”

  Chris blushed, the pink on his cheeks somehow blending into the red of his hair. “Sorry! All this is kinda new to me, but I can’t tell you how excited I am.”

  Not replying, he bent to grab his suitcase with one hand, while keeping his briefcase in the other. Staring pointedly at Chris, he waited to see which direction they would go in. Chris continued to look at him, smiling widely, until Eric finally said, “You did drive here? There is actually an automobile that we’re going to be heading to, right?”

  Chris startled out of his obvious admiration and blushed again. “Oh, right. Yeah.” His gaze dropped down to the suitcase in Eric hand, and he asked, “Uh, you want me to get that?”

  With a jerky shake of his head, he replied, “Nope. You’re not here to be my personal valet. But, right now, you are supposed to be my driver, so if we could get going, that’d be great.”

  Smiling again, Chris turned and led him over to a red Jeep Cherokee. Throwing open the back door, he stood back while Eric settled his cases inside, then shut the door. They both climbed into the front seat and Chris pulled out of the airport parking. It only took a moment for Eric to merge onto the highway, heading south to I-70, which he knew cut across Kansas and would take them directly to Manhattan.

  “It’s not usually so crowded on the highway,” Chris said. “But you got here at rush hour.”

  Eric glanced around at the wide highway, the amount of traffic minimal, and wondered for a second if Chris was joking. “Are you from around here?”

  Chris nodded, still smiling, and replied, “Born and raised right here. Got my degree in cybersecurity and was able to get on with DHS after graduation.” His blue eyes crinkled as he grinned wider, and added, “They learned I have a proclivity for not only figuring out cybersecurity, but how to get around it when I need to.” He looked at him from the corner of his eye, and added, “But this is the first time I’ve been on a real case…you know, where I’m actually in the action.”

  He had been staring out the windshield, wondering what Chris would think about rush-hour traffic on the East Coast, but he now slid his gaze to the side and stared at Chris, seeing the enthusiasm written plainly on the young man’s face.

  “You do know this is mostly a fact-finding operation to begin with, right? I don’t see it as a go-in-with-guns-blazing ordeal.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know,” Chris said, his smile dropping from his face. “I get that it probably won’t be all that exciting, but it’s still my first chance to actually do something besides just sit in an office and putter with the computer.”

  He nodded, expecting the conversation to be over, but Chris continued with his running monologue. “I got you booked into one of the hotels near the NBAF. They have one of those king-size bed suites that has more room, so I figured you’d like that. Also, breakfast is included with the price of the room, and it’s a pretty good one. Not like just cereal and bananas. I went by to check it out and they’ve got scrambled eggs, sausage, bacon, biscuits and gravy, and a big ol’ tray of all kinds of pastries. ‘Course, they got juice and coffee and milk, too.”

  Part of him wanted to lean his head back against the headrest and close his eyes, but Eric found himself enjoying the Kansas vista as they merged onto I-70 too much to do so. Plus, if he were honest with himself, there was something about Chris’ enthusiasm that kept his attention.

  So, for the next two hours, Chris talked about Kansas ranches—something he was well acquainted with since he had been raised on one. As the young man droned on, Eric took in the plains, prairies, and rolling hills. The only major city they went through was Topeka, and it only took a few minutes to get from one side to the other on the highway.

  Finally, Chris turned off of the highway and onto a smaller road leading north to Manhattan. As they got closer, he announced, “Manhattan, Kansas. Home of the Kansas State Wildcats. This little town bleeds purple, especially during football season. It’s also known as the Little Apple.” He laughed, and said, “Get it? Manhattan...Little Apple? You know, since Manhattan, New York is called The Big Apple, this place got the nickname Little Apple. Isn’t that a hoot?”

  Eric’s lips curved into a smile in spite of his best effort to maintain closed off. He had already read that Manhattan, Kansas was known by that nickname, but hearing it from Chris added to his amusement.

  Chris’ face settled into a more serious expression, and he said, “Look over to the left, and you can see the NBAF.”

  He leaned forward and looked out the window, recognizing the outer buildings from all the information he had read. Nondescript, neat, sprawling buildings behind a tall fence. He knew there was much more to the facility than met the eye but remained silent as he stared.

  With a nod, he said, “Thanks. You can take me to the hotel now.”

  Once there, he got settled and watched as Chris turned from gangly, goofy, geeky, young man into a serious agent in training. Chris opened up a case that he had brought with him and quickly began scanning the room for any audio or visual bugs.

  Declaring the room clean after his sweep, Chris then began setting up his own surveillance to keep an eye out in case anyone came into the room. Eric had to admit, he was impressed. Once Chris was finished, they sat down, he in the chair on one side of the coffee table while Chris sprawled on the sofa.

  He began, “I’m assuming you’ve been briefed on everything that I’m going to be doing. I have already set up two separate interviews, one with each of the protesting groups. Undetectable audio and visual recording need to be on me. I don’t want to make any assumptions that the local one is not sophisticated, but from what I’ve read, they probably won’t be expecting me to have anything. They’re excited about getting press, so I think that won’t be a problem. The other one? I could easily see them being much more suspicious of someone coming in to interview them.”

  Chris leaned forward, his forearms on his knees and nodded enthusiastically. “That’s what I was told.” Sliding his case over, he flipped it open. “I wasn’t sure what you’d be wearing for the interviews, so I’ve got something that goes with a tie, in case you’re wearing a suit jacket. If you’re going for the more casual look, I’ve got something that can attach to glasses. Of course, you can use that with a suit and tie, as well. I just wanted to give you a choice.”

  “Glasses? I wear them for reading, but—”

  “I’ve got some,” Chris said, while simultaneously shoving his glasses up on his nose. Reaching into his case again he brought out a pair of fashionable eyeglasses and laid them on the table. “Since you wear reading glasses, these will be easy for you to get used to.”

  “I’ll use the glasses.” he said, picking them up to look them over. “In case anyone is checking into me, then they’ll always see me with the glasses on and won’t think anything of it.”

  “Got it,” Chris said, taking the glasses from him and setting them to the side. “I’ll have everything ready for you as soon as I double check all my equipment and connections.” Reaching into his case again, he said, “I’ve worked on your press badge, the special one that only the press allowed to go into the NBAF will have. The head honcho will know that you’re coming in, and this badge will allow you to get in without any problems. I’ve also got a microchip embedded in it, so that I’ll know where you are at any given time once you’re inside.”

  Listening to Chris explain everything, he realized it was the first time that he had ever worked with someone who was not already part of his team. Someone that he knew. Someone that he trusted. While Chris continued to tinker with some of the things that he was bringing out of his case, he leaned back in his
chair and stared.

  In the field, on a mission, trust was everything. He trusted his SEAL brothers, but this was different. He knew Chris had been vetted by Silas. He knew Chris would have the tools and toys necessary. But would he have the instinct? Uncertain of the answer to that question, he continued to watch, praying that nothing went wrong with the mission but, knowing if it did, Chris had better have his six.

  4

  Lydia Hughes, her brown, wavy hair pulled up into a sloppy bun on top of her head, slipped on protective gloves before walking into the room. She was dressed in her usual blue scrubs, with her pants tucked into high, white, rubber boots. As she moved about the occupants, she was greeted enthusiastically. Snorts. Grunts. Squeals. Grinning widely, she bent over and rubbed her hand along the backs of several of her audience members, scratching behind their ears.

  She had never intended to work with pigs when she first began her doctorate in veterinary medicine, but life had a way of taking its own course, and sometimes she found the easiest thing to do was follow the flow. When she had completed her internship at the VetMed School at KSU, her daughter wanted to stay in Kansas to finish high school. The NBAF had opened and needed veterinarians as one of their many employees. They offered a fabulous salary and tremendous benefits, so she jumped at the chance.

  “Lydia!”

  Turning, she watched a young woman dressed in the same outfit that she was wearing, open the gate and step into the pen. “Good morning, Beth,” she called out. Looking just behind her, she also greeted Jim, as he walked in.

  Beth was a senior veterinary student at the Kansas Veterinary Medicine School at KSU, who had the fortunate opportunity to be able to work part-time at NBAF, due to both her parents having security clearances working for the government. Jim had already earned his DVM and had been accepted for a year internship to work under her.

  Every day, they made their inspection rounds first thing in the morning and in the middle of the afternoon. They had worked together for several months, easily falling into a routine. Beth bent and scooped up a piglet in her arms and held it tightly for Lydia to examine.

  She lifted up each of the ears, calling out the tag number to Jim, who stood nearby with his tablet. She checked the pig’s snout, making sure it was moist but with no discharge and rubbed her hands along its skin, checking to make sure there were no wounds or sores. As she verbalized her observations during the exam, Jim made notations by the pig’s number.

  When Lydia’s exam of that piglet was complete, Beth placed the wiggling, squealing animal back to the floor, before snagging the next one. As they moved on to the larger pigs, it took another hour for them to complete their task. Once finished, they left the pen, securing it tightly before moving to the area just outside the animal enclosure.

  Lydia led the way, moving to the concrete slab underneath a shower hose. Grabbing the hose, she washed the muck off her boots before handing the hose to Beth. Stepping out of her boots, she placed them on the drainage rack before sliding on her shoes.

  As Beth and Jim followed her steps, she tossed her gloves into the trash and walked over to the sink. With her sleeves rolled up, she scrubbed her hands and forearms with the precision of a surgeon.

  It did not matter that she had been dealing with healthy animals, everyone at NBAF had to follow the same protocol. She did not mind, since it was for her safety as well as the safety of others.

  As Beth and Jim cleaned up, Lydia sat at her desk and pulled up the latest information that Jim had entered. She found no change in any of the piglets, something she was very pleased about. For the next hour, they worked on their various reports, the conversation light amongst them.

  “How’s Caroline?” Beth asked.

  She smiled. “She’s good. Settled into her dorm and told me that she got most of the classes she wanted. So far, she likes her roommate.”

  Beth snorted, and said, “That’ll last about another month. Then, they’ll probably be at each other’s throats.”

  “Honest to God, Beth,” Jim said, sitting over at his desk. “I swear that’s a girl thing. Guys can go off to college and get along with anybody. Messy, neat, loud, quiet. Just doesn’t seem to matter to guys.”

  Beth turned around, planting her hands on her hips. “I don’t believe that, Jim. You were a college freshman, what? Eight years ago? I’ll bet your freshman roommate got on your last nerve also.”

  Jim looked over at Beth and laughed. “Actually, no. Within the first month, he fell madly, deeply in love and moved in with his girlfriend. I ended up having the room completely to myself.” With a wink toward Lydia, he said, “Hope for your sake, that doesn’t happen to Caroline and she ends up with her roommate’s boyfriend living in their room for the rest of the year.”

  Eyebrows raised to her forehead, she shook her head. “Hmmm, maybe I’d better call Caroline and warn her that she’d better not let her roommate walk all over her!”

  Beth laughed, and said, “Speaking of romance, don’t forget, you’re going out with a couple of us tonight to celebrate Penny’s engagement.”

  Her shoulders slumped at the reminder. “Why on earth did I agree to go out tonight? All the bars are filled with very young college students.”

  Beth rolled her eyes, “Lydia, you’re hardly old!” Looking over at the clock, she said, “I’m out of here. Remember to meet us at eight o’clock.” She bolted out the door, leaving Lydia frowning, still sitting at her desk.

  Jim looked over, sympathy in his eyes. “She’s right, you know. You’re not old. But, thank God, you’re also not twenty-two. Nothing more irritating than somebody being that young and so sure about everything.” Shutting down his computer, he stood and stretched before heading to the door. “I’m off the clock too. Don’t work late.”

  She finished the report she was working on before closing up the office. Walking down the hall, she gave a nod toward her supervisor, Paul, who was busy in a conversation with Dr. Linda Hughley, one of the NBAF directors and a world expert on certain porcine diseases. Finishing his conversation, he turned to her just as she was almost to the door.

  “Lydia, a moment please.”

  She turned and walked back to him, looking up expectantly.

  “Our section will be part of the international press tour. We will have some of the journalists in this week to take a look around, while the scientists will be in the research area. I will leave you in charge of their tour.”

  Stunned, she asked, “What on earth am I supposed to show them? Right now, I’m spending all my time with the swine in preparation for the studies next month.”

  Waving his hand dismissively, he replied, “That’s fine. There’s only a small delegation of journalists that are coming through. The scientists they are accompanying are interested in the African Swine Fever prevention. You can go over your job and some of the research that occurs at this facility. That’s all you need to do.”

  He did not give her a chance to respond, turning on his heels and walking back down the hall. Sighing, she made her way to the outside door, sliding her badge over the security reader. She hated the idea of speaking to journalists, knowing that her every word could be quoted. Confident in her job and her abilities, she nonetheless dreaded being on display.

  A few minutes later, driving home, her mind rolled to the evening. Not sure what to wear, she wished that she was staying in and watching TV with a nice cup of tea, instead of going to a bar that would be filled with a bunch of people her daughter’s age. God, I feel old.

  Eric and Chris went to get a rental car, so that Eric would have transportation while there. Once back at the hotel, Chris headed to his own room, leaving Eric a chance to review his notes. It was not long before his stomach started to grumble. Desiring to find a place to eat dinner before turning in early, he asked Chris for some recommendations, knowing that Chris had been in Manhattan before.

  After GPSing locations, he noted that several were within walking distance of the hotel. He decided to chec
k them out and stop at whichever looked good. He walked past a few chain restaurants, whose parking lots were filled with family minivans, and quickly nixed those. Continuing down the road, a little closer to campus, he stepped into one that looked decent and made his way to the bar.

  Ordering a buffalo burger and fries, he sipped his beer while casting his gaze around the crowded room. Some people, like him, were eating, but it appeared that many were there just for the drinks. As it got darker outside, the music seemed to get louder, as did the shouts from the people around.

  Once served, he made short work of his dinner, nodding toward the bartender as he got another beer. He twisted around on his barstool and wondered how many of the young people there were barely of drinking age.

  A few girls sidled up to him, the blatant sexual offers not even close to being subtle. Their bodies were tanned and toned. Their breasts were pert. Their dresses were tight, some almost looking like they were made out of a brightly colored latex condom. That strange analogy gave him pause, and he shook his head and turned back to his beer. There was nothing about them that caught his interest. God, I feel old.

  His elbow was bumped slightly, and as he jerked his head around, he heard a soft voice say, “I’m so sorry. Please excuse me.”

  The voice was not only soft, but slightly deep, with a sultry edge to it. Not a girl’s voice…a woman’s voice. Catching her eyes, he was speechless for a moment. Standing next to him was definitely a woman. Her thick, dark hair hung to just below her shoulders, trimmed so that the edges flipped slightly. Her brown eyes were warm, with little flecks of amber that caught the lights from behind the bar. Her makeup had been applied with a light touch, and her lips were kissed with a rosy gloss.

  A dark green, knit shirt showed no cleavage but gave evidence to her curves. His eyes swept downward, and he admired the way her ass was showcased in her dark jeans. Wearing low heeled boots, he estimated her height as just tall enough to tuck under his chin if he was standing.